Those who wait
by kimmiesjoy
Summary: "Castle." She breathes, her eyes dropping, roaming over his face, like she wants to devour him and she did say dessert. The sweet treat at the end of a meal, the soft, hard, hot, cold culmination of an evening spent in promise. He can think of no better word for what is about to transpire between them. M addition to All Good Things
1. The first night

**A/N:** This is the M! Chapter follow on for chapter 6 of All Good Things. If you haven't read that, luckily its M! so it's fairly self explanatory. I'm leaving it open cos I feel All good things will have at least two more M! Chapters before it's complete. Thank you for reading.

Takes place after _Til Death Do Us Part_.

* * *

He opens the door on the fourth knock, trying not to get his hopes up - but hah, yeah right, they are already sky high. He tugs at his neck, pulls the tie loose and swings himself bodily around, pulling the door after him.

Stunned and frozen in place when he's confronted by Kate.

She's leaning against the door frame, pulling off her heels and when she sees him she smiles widely, her eyes not quite meeting his but trained on his lips and her cheeks dark spots of red.

"Beckett?" He swallows, hears the thunk of her shoes hit the floor and steps backwards, words jumping out of his mouth before he has a chance to stop them, "What do you want?"

She breathes the word, coming for him as she speaks, "Dessert."

Then her body is plastering itself to his, her fingers in his hair and moist breath tickling over his lips before her mouth slants hot and demanding over his own, thorough and claiming.

Somewhere behind her he hears the door slam as she kicks it shut.

* * *

Thank God for Lady GaGa and teenage boys with attractive grandfathers.

Okay, weird thought to have while Beckett is threading her fingers through his hair and her tongue is trailing his lower lip, but his mind leaps with the knowledge that this means they are very much alone. And _knowing_ they are alone is quickly followed by _understanding_ what that means.

They can be_ loud_.

Her thumbs blister the skin of his cheeks, hot, darting needle pleasure straight to the bone underneath. The ricocheted crash of the door colliding with the frame sends her into him harder, her body thrust against his as they stumble backwards.

It claws at him suddenly, a low down visceral _burn_, how much he wants to hear her be loud.

The short, sharp burst of amazement at finding her in his arms subsides and then he's on board, on _her _ with his hands reaching for her, grabbing with the desire to never let go.

He fists his hand in her hair and holds her to him, taking every frantic bite of the kiss she attacks him with.

And there is no other way to describe it, it's an attack, her mouth in battle for his, her lips fighting for purchase on his skin, sucking him closer so that her tongue can tangle and wrap around his, dive inside his mouth deep and search out for whatever it is she wants.

And she wants him.

She mewls when he palms her breast, his thumb tracing down the side of her body. One hand slinks around her waist, sliding over the taut curve of her ass, and he cannot pass by that luscious swell of flesh without squeezing the cheek. He flexes his fingers taking as much of her bouncy, pliant skin into his hands as he can, smoothing over the soft material of her dress and stroking, stroking, stroking.

He feels the flick of Kate's tongue, the way her fingers clench at the back of his neck and Castle roams across the division in her butt cheeks, and slides his fingers suggestively down the dividing line, feeling her shiver into his arms.

She growls against his lips and her fingers search, sliding against the hard press of his collar bone, her thumb dancing across his Adams apple when he swallows. Her fingers elongate against his chest, slipping under the buttons as she pops them apart, seeking, yearning with a rumble of frustration quivering across her tongue. Gone is the black tie that has been driving her crazy all night and in its absence she fists her hands in his shirt collar, clinging to him to keep their mouths together and tasting.

She sucks his tongue, her fingers at his buttons once more but his other hand tangles roughly in her hair, Castle yanks them apart on a gasp, her mouth wide and wanting and inviting, the pink shell of her lips urging him to sink back into her, but he pulls her back further, gentler this time, angling her head.

Her eyes are dark, midnight and misty with lust. Bright spots of pink high on her cheeks highlight the rush of blood and yearning that surges under her skin and her hot, wet breath paints her lips as she watches him.

"Castle." She breathes, her eyes dropping, roaming over his face, like she wants to devour him and she did say dessert. The sweet treat at the end of a meal, the soft, hard, hot, cold culmination of an evening spent in promise. He can think of no better word for what is about to transpire between them.

Dessert, with Kate Beckett as the most delectable morsel that will ever pass over his tongue and he plans to taste every little bit of her.

She's usually so controlled, so restrained and he wants to hear her let go.

Loudly.

* * *

The fingers in her hair slip down her back, slowly, taking the zipper of her pearly grey dress with them and he holds her eyes the entire time, giving her every opportunity to stop him, call a halt or - _please God, no_ - change her mind and leave.

Her chest is a stutter of rhythm, short, sharp gasps of breath that increase when she hears the teeth of her dress separate and her fingers bite into his skin, her eyes wide and her mouth parting as she laves over her lips wetly.

Her eyes don't leave his, not once, heat radiating their entire bodies and the sharp burst of breath that repeatedly blasts his own mouth makes his fingers still. He pulls her back towards him, slowly, eyes locked so tight nothing can untangle them and he breathes her in, his slow rising chest seeking to calm her frantic one.

She smells sweet. Like ripened summer fruit, like caramelized sugar that lays hot and thick over the tongue, like longing and everything he has ever imagined she would smell like - taste like - better than he remembers from the other times they have done this. Until it dawns on him, hits him hard between the ribs, stark and bright, that they have never done _this_.

There is a difference here, a taste on her tongue that he can't describe, a decision made, a line crossed, there is no going back, and she's in his arms panting and breathing his name and rolling her hips into his with every breath so that she must be able to feel the hard press of his desire - throbbing with need and straining through his pants with every brush of her hips - and with a growl, harsh and loud at the back of his throat, he pulls Kate deeper into his home and drives her towards the table, taking her mouth in a feral kiss.

No turning back.

* * *

She clings to him, her fingers slipping over the cotton of his shirt as she tries to hang on, but he keeps them moving all the while, his lips nipping at her own, sipping from the edge of her lips and then diving deep inside her with the lustful thrust of his tongue - it's all she can do to hang on.

He thrusts and withdraws, thrusts and withdraws until she's weeping, hot and heavy painful desire in the very pit of her belly, fearsome forceful fire that licks at her skin, like he does, licks and nips and drinks her in, touches and tastes and sucks.

Thrusting and withdrawing from her mouth until she's whimpering and mimicking him with every inch of her body.

His mouth paints vivid images against the hot skin of her jaw, nibbling at the bone, licking and sucking on her lips so purposefully that just the mere suggestion of his thumbs over her hip bones sends images of his head disappearing under her skirt and between her legs straight to the forefront of her mind.

His narrow minded and focused licking at the line where her lips part have her imagining the surge of his tongue inside her, tasting at the spongy quivering flesh as it parts for his slow and through invasion.

"Oh, God, Castle." She moans, she thinks she does anyway, but she doesn't know if the sound ever leaves her mouth or her mind or just gets swallowed in the next rapid round of kisses that leave her lips red and raw and desperate for more.

His fingers grip the backs of her thighs, sliding up and under the hem of her dress but the material is so tight - so tight like her flushed and thrumming skin - there is no give, no leeway as he lifts her. Their mouths stay fused together as her hands bunch up in his shirt, scramble out over his shoulders until she's holding fistfuls of his hair in her hands and whimpering against his assault on her mouth.

He tastes the moistness of her lips and says her name, a soft gravel roughened, "Kate," almost inaudible and she feels it before she hears it. The rumble of her name showers her in lava hot heat, it rains down over her like rays from the sun, like bliss and faith and happiness.

Her skin is prickly all over, head to toe she ripples with it and heat like white lightning shoots straight between her thighs when he clenches against her.

She moans into his mouth, rubbing against him and Castle lets her tilt his head back, hums when she raises herself in his arms so she's above him, surging like the tide.

She shifts awkwardly in his arms, trying to find the friction she so desperately needs as her lower lips rub and chafe against her underwear, wet and wanting and grasping nothing yet the pulse that she can't deny beats louder and harder and faster with every leading thrusting movement of his tongue.

If she could just get his pants off.

Or if he had another hand.

Mmm, the feel of his long fingers.

The wetness of his mouth.

The thick, solid length of him.

Oh, god, she wants it on her, in her, surrounding her and taking her over. Touching, tasting and rubbing, oh yes, she rolls her hips again and there is a snag in his movement, the barest stutter as she does it again.

He can feel it too and Kate clenches her thighs together, as much as she can, and whimpers.

Anything, everything. She wants it all.

She's going to claw her way through his skin if he doesn't touch her soon, if she doesn't touch him and he's still walking her backwards as if he's unaffected and if it wasn't for the feel of him - God, she wants to _feel_ him - she would think he was.

Her eyes slam shut when an arm bands around her waist, fingers burning against her knee as he strokes at the softest, sensitized flesh. Castle begins increasing his pressing when her hips arch forwards and her legs open him for, inviting him in.

Wanton and not caring, they are here and she wants more, more of what she's been longing for. More of him and this and them together because she can feel it under her skin, how much it will decimate them both when they give into this.

It's going to rip them both apart in the best possible way.

And he's here with her, where he always is, so firmly enmeshed in her heart, in every single beat that thunders through it, that she can't wait any longer to have him. In her heart, in her life, in her bed.

He's lifting her legs apart, and she gasps when he sets her down on something solid, harder than the bed or the couch and -oh, god, yes - she knows what this is about. Castle pushes her away from him, only to hook his fingers around her ankles and drag her back across the solid surface.

She's on the dining room table.

And he chuckles when her eyes open wide on the realization, her mouth chasing his with each bitten retreat from her kiss and Castle licks at the slightly gaping neckline of her dress.

He tastes her pulse as it pounds in her jugular, he sucks at the bone and follows her fevered swallow down the long line of her neck and she's about to demand, scold, murder him maybe for leaving her wanting but the second she pulls back and sees his face Kate freezes, her entire body alight with fire.

* * *

His eyes are pitch, no trace of the blue she fantasizes about, his expression set in a deadly, ridiculously arousing mask of determination and conquering desire. He laughs, darkly, and she hasn't got enough words in her head to describe the way he looks at her - the way no man has ever looked at her - like she's his and he's hers and everything that is about to happen has been predetermined by some greater force.

He always swore this was where they would end up, and his face is awash with belief and conviction. She's his. She was always meant to be his.

Kate fidgets on the table, her body hot and humming, her eyes covetous as they roam over his body. The unbuttoned shirt revealing his chest and the taste of his skin, warm with sweat and the bitter bite of whatever smell it is that haunts her dreams still thick over her tongue.

He can't take his eyes off her, cannot look away and she tries desperately to be able to pull herself from the force of his stare but she can't. She has no will power to remove herself from him anymore. She's scared by the force of it, the feel of rightness that settles heavy in her limbs, hot and thudding and pulsating between her thighs, the very apex blistering with heat and weeping for him, so badly, so needfully, so forcefully that it takes everything in her not to slip her hands up under her dress as he watches.

"Castle." His name is hot on the tip of her tongue, almost as if she can feel him in her mouth and as she battles with herself, trying to keep her body under control, Kate finds she has nothing left in her - no desire at all - to shield herself from him. She wants to do nothing more than stare back at him and lay it all out there for him to see -

"Castle."

- how much he affects her. How _much_ she wants him, how much this right here - them in this moment - means to her.

He licks his lips and her focus shifts straight to his mouth, sucking her own lip in response and her earlier comment about _dessert_ comes crashing back to her in those few brief seconds before he's coming for her again. Her words and the way his eyes sparkled with it, the single-minded focus that drove him to deposit her on his dining room table.

Castle's rolling up his sleeves with purpose and fever raging so bright she can see the surge of blood in his cheeks, red at his neck - wet where it glistens with the remnants of her kisses - her fingers brushing the evident swell through the pants of his suit.

And he looks good.

Ugh, better than good.

Sexy, god, hot and masculine and he smells like warmth and promise and sex - even though they haven't gotten that far yet - and coffee and _Castle_.

Everything, everything.

His eyes flutter at the movement of her fingers, unable to resist tracing the length of him and she shudders with the knowledge that soon he will be stretching her to bursting.

She wants it now.

He's hard and thick against the palm of her hand as she assesses his size, a grumble of appreciation rolling out over her lips and his eyes meet hers noting her approval. He grins and her whole body reacts as if he's touching her, as if he's already inside her, dark needles of pleasure ripple outwards from the deepest part of her and she meets his grin with one of her own.

She should have told him earlier, how much that tie around his neck was driving her crazy. How all night, especially after she had felt the silken length slip through her fingers when she pulled him onto the dance floor, she had imagined it wrapped around his wrists or blindfolding her eyes.

That the inevitability of tonight was scorching through her veins almost from the moment she set eyes on him in that suit. Maybe from the moment they met.

She bites her lips and feels him jerk into her palm. Her own hips roll sloppily against the table where only a few weeks ago they had the dinner that begun it all. She traces the thick feel of his erection again and smiles up at him slowly, it will be fitting if this is where she falls apart for the first time.

But if he doesn't stop staring at her, like she's already naked and he's licking his lips to taste her, he's going to hear her moan without even touching her.

It thunders, just behind the pulse of her nerves, how very close this orgasm actually is. It waits for her, for him, for the next sharp jolt of movement to send her embarrassingly quickly into a spiral of Castle induced pleasure.

She should tell him that too, except she's trying hard to breathe.

Kate knows she should tell him how much she wants him, and how wet she is, waiting for him. How long she's waited to be able to give herself over to this feeling, but the words are still trapped.

Kate wants to whispers how she's trying hard not to shred his pants in her desperation to free him from his clothes so she can taste him, holding herself as rigid as she can so not to collapse under the fierceness of his stare.

Trying hard not to beg that he just rip her dress off and take her on the table, right now.

But he's a gentleman and he has manners and you don't _play_ with your food. Kate wants to laugh at that imagery only she can almost feel his mouth on her already, his tongue swirling around her sensitized lips just as skillfully as he twirls it around his fantastic theories.

He plans to devour and savor every inch of her skin until she's weeping with want - more than she already is - Kate can read every little bit of it in his eyes.

He's going to _feast_ on her.

His fingers are at her thighs, tracing the hem of her dress and urging it up higher, riding the material until it's stretched to breaking point across her eager parting legs. She slides forwards on the wood, a surge of sensation catching her by surprise and she gasps, her mouth falling open and it's enough - as needle like electricity sparks against her nerves and that threatening orgasm makes itself known again.

She's going to fall apart as soon as he touches her and God, she wants him to touch her.

"Castle." She breathes, his name the sweetest agony over her tongue, a deadly whisper that she would rather be chanting in time to the meeting thrust of their hips. "Castle..."

And he hears it.

Hears the clarity and the choice in her words and - her breath catches - he's coming for her again.

* * *

"Beckett." His fingers tangle in the silk of her skin, tracing the bone as he teases apart her knees, pressing forcefully as he steps between her legs, the skirt of her dress straining until his thighs meet the table and his hands are at her back, lifting her head to his once more.

"Mmm, Kate." He nuzzles his face into the hollow of her neck, breath hot against her ear and she jolts like a live wire in his hands when his tongue darts out to trace the shell.

He drags the zipper down lower, and a sound has never made him hard before but his skin tenses and strains to slide into her as the teeth of the zip part and he un-peels her slowly, savoring every second, every growl of metal as the dress opens under his fingers, every breath that leaves her chest and every single stuttered gasp of his name that he bites at with his mouth.

The delicate cap sleeves of the dress fall down her arms and he traces their movement. His lips part in wonder at the softness of her skin, at the muscle that ripples just below the surface, at her femininity and strength wrapped up so beautifully in every inch of her body.

Removing one sleeve at a time, touching at her elbow, tracing the crease with his fingers Castle pulls one arm free and Kate immediately wraps it around his neck. Surging up against him and taking his mouth in a quick frantic kiss, her teeth clash with his before she opens against him.

She gives him everything she has in that kiss, her eyes closing and he feels her struggle and free her other arm, the top of the dress falling around her waist, Castle's hand slipping from her neck to trail down her back.

* * *

She's like liquid silk beneath his fingers. Warm, fluid soft and so beautiful, so succulent and alluring that he fights not to pause over every muscle and bone and freckle on her skin to worship her the way she deserves.

"So beautiful." He whispers, not knowing if she hears because the delicate curve of her waist and flare of her hips are already inviting his caress and Castle gives in, over and over again. He trails her back in long smooth lines, from shoulder to hip, intrigued by the way the width of his palm splays out to cover as much of her skin as it can.

He's almost a witness to his body's movement, to the way he skims her skin, to the mysterious way she reacts. He strays lower, hears the hum of her approval, feels her teeth nip at his lip and her head duck until she's unbuttoning his shirt.

Her hands are so warm against his chest that his eyes close and he has to inhale sharply to keep himself under control. She pauses for the briefest second over his heart, feeling the rhythm almost unconsciously before she moves on.

He hears her murmur his name against his collarbone, something that sounds like "_don't stop_," before her fingers begin circling his nipples. She does it again, harder, harsher, when he jerks and he knows she's enjoying getting that response from him.

Her nails rasp over his stomach and the weight of his erection strains between them as he groans, desperate to be free.

She's reaching for his pants just as his fingers slip under the satin line of her underwear to trace her tailbone. She freezes and the curve of each cheek quivers as she ripples against him, little jerking flexes of her hips against the table letting him know she's found a pressure that is easing the smolder between her legs.

His mouth lands on her shoulder, nudging aside the black strap of her bra so that it falls down her arm and his hands slide up from her pants to reach for the clasp.

* * *

His fingers are steady as he unhooks her - so painfully slowly that she almost reaches around behind her and does it herself. She's not at all surprised, she's the one shaking with it - head to toe - while he stands erect, and really really erect, touching her skin, dragging his hands over her as he forces her higher, winds her up tighter and tighter and the orgasm at the back of her mind is singing out constantly to just _give in_.

"Castle, don't stop." She pleads when his fingers still and he unveils her like a treasure.

His eyes are huge, absorbing everything, committing every sound she makes to memory, watching the way every section of skin moves, how each body part reacts as he peels the material down her arms.

His breath stutters in his chest, watching as each breast appears, bobs with release and then strains against her chest waiting for his touch.

He inhales sharply, painfully when he see's her scar for the first time, still vivid and bright against her marble pale skin. Still red enough and achy enough to cause her insecurity and pain and there is a sudden surge of doubt that washes over Kate like cold water, making her freeze as she waits for his reaction.

* * *

This is why she's alive, is the first thought that stops him dead in his tracks. This little circular, rough edged mark that lays between her breasts, right atop her pounding heartbeat.

This is why she's alive.

The beauty of the mark, the meaning it's embellished with pounding through his blood like a victory march. This little mark, proof to all the world that she's a _warrior_, his _partner_, the _survivor_.

This is why she's alive and he feels the heat of tears press at the back of his eyes, the burn of relief all over again and Castle dips his head down slowly, paying homage to the tiny mark with the press of his kiss.

* * *

Her fingers are still fisted tight in his shirt and her eyes close the second she realizes what he's about to do.

Castle's mouth opens hotly against the bullet wound on her chest and the reverent way he touches her eases the surge of wanton lust and her own fingers slide up to press over his heart as his mouth rests over hers.

Forever connected, by this, yes, but by so much more.

And it doesn't take her at all by surprise - when his head lifts and he smiles, his mouth coming for hers to kiss a little of the reverence into her lips - how much she loves him.

Her heart bursts with it.

* * *

Her nipples are dark, dusky and hard, he thumbs one slowly in awe at her body's rapid reaction to him, watching the flare of goosebumps erupt under his touch. Little raised welts of flesh circles her nipple, and he trails them with his fingers, circling so that she gasps and her knees lock around his legs.

Tasting at her lips all the while, one hand cradling her face, stoking the flame and letting it flare out across her cheek bones. She shuffles towards him on the table as he pulls the lacy cups free of her arms and her chest is laid bare before him.

He can't keep his hands off her, but they deserve so much more than this, for their first time, so much more than a desperate fumble on his kitchen table.

Castle kisses her again, nudges her nose with his own and his fingers spread out across her ribs, caressing the underside of her breasts in slow strokes.

"Kate," His eyes find hers and he almost falters at the sight of her, burning up with it, so close, so very very close. He's not denying her - he couldn't deny her a damn thing if he tried - but she deserves more, he wants more from this encounter.

God, he just wants the chance to love her.

"We're not doing this here." He growls out, pulling her from the table. Castle catches her, steadies her on her feet and lets her bra fall to the floor, no longer caring about the scrap of material as he finds her eyes and lets his words thunder through with promise and truth. "I want _you _ in _my_ bed."

The rest of it goes unsaid, the forever and the always just lingering in the thick atmosphere so much so that they can almost see it.

She shudders through with the vestiges of retreating pleasure, her hands tight around his neck before she nods, once, hard and fast their noses brushing as she does. Then she whispers and his whole world explodes in vibrant color.

"I just want you."

Her voice breaks around the words and it leaves him stunned.

"Anywhere." She huffs what could be an attempt at a laugh, but there is nothing funny about this, this blatant truth that lies between them. "Everywhere. For so long, Castle." She cradles his face, "So long."

Kate kisses him again, almost missing his lips as she steps out of the dress that has tumbled down the long line of her legs to pool on the floor at their feet. She tangles their fingers together, leading him, padding backwards with a softly, unfurling smile.

Barefoot and in nothing but her underwear, she pulls him into his bedroom.

* * *

They stumble across the threshold, arms and legs tangled and his hands in her hair, hers under his shirt and finally, finally pushing it free of his body.

Her hands map his muscular arms, roam over his chest and fan out at the broad curve of his shoulder, bombarded by the image of him looming over her in bed, all his compressed energy rippling through the muscle under the skin she touches as he bears down on her, as he makes her come.

God, she wants it. Wants him.

Kate wants him and she rises up onto her tippy-toes to get back that missing height, her mouth hot over his and her leg wrapping around his thigh to bring their pelvises into perfect alignment.

He groans and she can taste it. Taste the excitement and the _oh god, yes now_ that erupts from within him and he's lifting her, ignoring her squeal and driving her backwards, yet again, aiming for his bed.

She slides down the length of his body her hands wrapping around his belt buckle and she can't help but tease him through his pants.

Go,d he's so hard and thick and bobbing against the material waiting to spring free. The saliva surges into her mouth and she's suddenly ravenous with desire.

No, not suddenly, not suddenly at all, perfectly timed, finally, in sync. Finally. Both on the same page with the same desire and nothing standing in their way but several scraps of very rip-able cotton and silk. Finally.

She steps back when he shudders and bats her hands away, his groan of her name licking straight between her sodden lower lips as if he himself is there kissing away the yearning, hot, wet slide of skin that lays open and ready for him.

She grins, devilish and yes, she teases him again with the slide of her thumbs dipping below the band of her underwear where it sits on her hips.

His belt hits the floor.

His pants slide down his legs and she watches his boxers follow gasping when his erection springs free, reaching up towards his navel and glistening at the tip.

She licks her lips and watches the way it bobs as he moves, and she's distracted enough that when he lunges for her and replaces her hands with his own she can do little more than gasp, and then gasp again.

He drops down in front of her, the bed at the back of her knees and the noise that leaves his mouth sends frantic fire licking out over every limb and strand of hair, every inch of skin and curl of muscle until he feels her knees shudder and Kate tries not to fall backwards.

Castle peels the black lace from her hips, over her thighs following the movement with the roll and press of his tongue, kissing his way down her body. His fingertips pressing, widening her stance and he looks up at her, his grin desirous and needy and smug all at once and even as she wants to yell at him, smack that look off his face, ugh kiss it off - maybe even sink down over it and ride it away - even with all those conflicting desires, she thinks he's never looked so sexy, looked so lovingly at her before.

Her fingers tangle in his hair as he breathes her in. His nose nudging at the apex of her thighs as he curls one leg over his shoulder and exhales against her.

"Oh, god, Castle please." She fights the words, but it's no use and it doesn't matter because she's not begging, he wouldn't dream of making her beg for this, this wondrous magical, thoroughly devastating thing that is about to explode between them

He wouldn't because he wants nothing more than to give it to her.

So he does.

With one great in-drawn breath, his mouth opening over her mound and lifting her leg higher over his shoulder, Castle sets about feasting on her.

Dessert finally served.

* * *

She shudders and his tongue swirls deeply inside, heady musky flavor harsh and almost bittersweet over his tongue. He laps and gulps and nips and chases at the nerves that have swollen and continue to weep and drench his tongue. His teeth scrape as she cries out.

"OH, God, Castle."

Her knees quiver and shake and he feels the way her muscles give out, feels her tilt and sway and he knows that she's about to fall in more ways than one.

He slides his tongue deeply inside her, the roughened pad he grazes with the tip of his nose jumping under the briefest touch and he feels her spongy walls contract and flutter around his invading muscle.

He pushes in harder, faster, presses his fingers into her skin at the same time.

Castle pulls his mouth away, and replaces it with his two longest fingers, curling them deeply inside her and never ever stilling their movement. She cries his name and he opens his mouth over the heat of her, sucking the softest of her skin between his lips.

He sucks and licks and she clenches hard around his fingers when he strokes deeper, rocking her hips in a jerky rapid rhythm as he fights to keeps his mouth mashed to her wet skin.

His name stumbles from her lips, and she warns him, warns him even as her hand fists itself in his hair.

"I can't." She croaks.

But she can and she will, he's relentless in his pursuit of her pleasure and he pulls the rapidly swollen nub between his teeth and bites down just hard enough, as he crooks his fingers, to make her cry out.

Her long legs give way as she comes, hard and and he catches her, helps her slump backwards onto the bed, working her all the while, the way she falls leaving her even more open to his invasion.

The thick viscous fluid of her enjoyment rushes to meet his tongue and he laps it up as she breaks again and again and again, crying out against him and sobbing through each rushing wave.

He keeps on and on and on as she surges through it, rolling her higher just to bring her crashing down yet again. Until she can take no more.

Reaching for him, both hands grabbing at his ears, "Enough, Castle, God, please." She pleads, and pulls him hard. He growls his reluctance, flicking his tongue out over her once more before he gives in and crawls up the bed to hover over her.

She's beautiful, flushed from head to toe and breathing so hard that even that splay of his hand across her ribs makes her jerk in surprise.

Castle lowers himself slowly, her eyes on him the entire time and he brings their lips into alignment, letting her taste the sharp tang of her enjoyment on his tongue.

* * *

When she can breathe again, Kate runs her fingers down his body and feels him flex against her hand. She wants no more preamble, no more delay and she rolls over him, lifts a leg across his waist and takes him in her hand, smoothing over the velvet skin before settling him at her entrance and sinking down.

Her whole body shudders with the feel, her fingers pressing right there to feel every inch of him slide inside her, a little shift in her weight allowing that last, - oh, god, yes - penetrating inch to bring their hips into the perfect naked kiss.

Her muscles contract and ache and swell around him, weeping desperately, and the remnants of the orgasm that took her legs out from under her only minutes before still ripples through her making her overly sensitive.

She quivers and breathes deeply as shock waves of pleasure ripples over her skin. Kate leans forwards, claims his hands and locks their knuckles together. His eyes are still trained on the space that no longer exists between then, to the disappearance of his body within hers and she pulls his attention up to her with one single word.

"_Slow_." She breathes, knowing he will understand immediately, that she's flushed with it, suffused with it so intensely that every single movement is going to be too much, but god she wants it, wants to _feel_ him.

She body rolls over his as she brings their chests together, her nipples sweeping his, their joined hands resting at his side and he mouth opens as he breathes her name, in wonder and awe. She contracts around him, her lips squeezing his shaft in a delicious aftershock of pleasure that makes them both gasp.

He jerks in response and she clenches around him again, both of them moaning.

"Can't be slow if you do that" He growls darkly, his fingers biting into her hands.

"Can't help it." She rolls her hips and tests her body with a long slow slide up and then back down, sinking into the waiting cradle of his hips, "Oh, yes." She moans because now, now she -

"Kate."

Her eyes open and they are so close their noses brush.

"Let me see you this time." He pleads, his eyes lock on hers as he thrusts up, and she drops down and circles and rolls and arches and -

"Yes."

She wants that too.

"Yes."

It's building fast, the hot rush of breath between them coming quicker and quicker and quicker, the surge of adrenalin keeping them both going as she rises and falls, circles, arches forwards and repeats it all over again like she's seeking the destruction of them both.

He frees one hand from her blistering grasp and pushes her hair behind her ears, touches the bright red flare of ecstasy where it paints her cheeks and surges upwards desperate to kiss her lips.

Her hands land on his chest and though she wants to close her eyes and dip her head, she fights the urge and lets him see her at her most open, her most vulnerable, her most _joyous_.

God, he feels _good_.

Better than good, _perfect_.

Hot and hard and stretching her, reaching deep within and brushing over every sensitive nerve ending, sparking like flint until she's surprised she doesn't spontaneously combust.

_Harder_, she urges him, _faster, harder_ even though she's in control.

His hands guide her hips when it swells up from within and her movement starts to get sloppy, she's reaching, battling for this all consuming wave of pleasure that will come crashing down on them, rolling her hips, lifting falling and chanting his name like it's her salvation.

His hands flare out over her thighs and this time when she lands in his lap he tugs her forwards, pulls her in close to slide inside her that little bit _deeper, firmer, harder_, just as she'd gasped she'd needed.

Oh, he's good, and hot - and so thick as he drives up from the bed - and lovely and she's almost there so close so very, very close that her whole body is fighting itself, everything running at this wall that stands between her and a cascade of fireworks and bone melting _bliss_.

He palms her ass, fingers slipping around and under as he traces the wet line of her cheeks, her desire seeping out and dampening his fingers.

"Kate." He growls, so she knows that he's close too, that thick pulsation of him inside her is going to get stronger and stronger and she speeds up, relishing the way he has to fight to breathe through it.

His wet fingers trace her skin and he slips around to the front, stroking over the paper thin skin of where they are joined and without warning he brushes over her nerves, twists his fingers up underneath and rolls the pads of his invading digits back and forth so that she explodes instantaneously.

Her hoarse cry floods the room, loud gasps meeting his, and he yells out too as she clamps around him like a velvet fist, hot wet and contracting so fiercely he can do nothing but grip her tight and hang on for dear life.

White hot fire ripples through her belly and she cries out, guttural gasps of shock at the intensity of pleasure washing over her and he keeps her moving through each wave and clench of muscle, so tight and explosive it feels like she might black out.

Maybe she does, because starlight is dancing behind her eyes as he lets go and her name on his lips and the hot gush of him between her legs makes her clench tight all over again.

She's coming, harder and faster and she can feel it so deeply inside her that her head drops back and she whimpers with every ripple, _every single ripple_ of pleasure that takes her body, tears it to shreds and casts the pieces into the air like a ticker tape parade.

Her hands on his shoulders she rides, almost oblivious to each of his desperate grunts and she milks every last little bit of bliss from him, chasing her own pleasure and reveling in all of it.

Hot, sweaty stuttered gasps leave their chests and their eyes locking brings her down flat over him again, their hearts thundering through with pleasure and white noise and she's in his bed, in his arms and shaking with the force of the orgasms they shared.

It's so much more than she ever imagined it would be and she can't feel anything but him, still. Inside her, around her and buried deep within her heart, she feels nothing, wants nothing but _Castle._

He kisses her, little jerking rolling movements keeping them fused until she lifts and slides off him, her head falling into the groove of his shoulder. Her body gives way immediately and she collapses at his side, her legs quivering and her muscles aching in the best possible way.

Celebrating life, that's what they have been doing with the dinners that have led them here and she can think of no better, more fitting way to celebrate life that what they just did.

She pants, laughs and pulls his face towards hers in a sloppy, messy, heaving kiss, holding him to her with one hand at his jaw until he laughs too and fights to pull away. He cradles her face, searches her eyes and throws an arm across her waist, happily content to let her sink into him.

They lay quietly for a few seconds, letting their hearts beat normally, catching their breath and just staring at each other in wonder. Her eyes drift and his lips settle at her temple, kissing down her face until he reaches her smile.

"Thank you for dessert." He grins and she groans, growls and opens against his lips, letting him in for the rest of that kiss.

It lasts a long time, until they both pull back needing breath, and it's thorough and sweet, slow and full of so much more than what they just did. It tastes like a _promise_ and he presses his forehead to hers for a second before he slides down the bed, molds their bodies together and fits himself into her side.

"I think after that, you owe me breakfast." Kate grins, turning her face into his neck and closing her eyes, leaving him content in the knowledge she will be here in the morning.

She never had any intention of leaving.


	2. The shower

The glass door snicks behind them and he presses her into the cubicle, laughing when she flares her eyes up at him and yelps, the tile cold at her back.

"Chilly?" He grins, his fingers chasing up her spine and drawing her back in.

"I'm standing in the shower, naked with no water and you are determ- omnff." There is a sudden surge of delicious warmth at her back and his mouth just taking from hers, stealing her words and ability to breath and her indignation, until she's rising up onto her toes, wet fingers sliding through his hair.

She fights for barely a second and then she just gives in, gives up the paper-thin resistance she was holding on to because this is so much_ more_ than she expected it to be, and she already knew it would mean everything!

The way his fingers move, the warm brush of skin, the entirety of the way they touch each other is more intense, more vivid, more vibrant and more alive than she ever could have hoped, and with his arms wrapping around her this feels like something she could be good at.

Being _with_ him.

She could be good at so many of the things she's waited for, just so she can share them with him. Like this, this slippery slide of wet skin and fevered kisses.

God, he can kiss.

The water pounds against her and it sets fire to her heartbeat, amping up a fast and frantic beat that he mimics with his tongue and god, more. More _kissing_.

She's not half bad herself, but really he just knows exactly what to do with his hands, one at her jaw with his thumb spread wide on her cheek to hold her in place - claiming and undeniable and unbelievably hot - blistering heat from his palm laying over her face making her eyes slam shut at the assault of sensation.

Her fingers cling to his neck, naked, and open under his touch and the hot blasts of water that hit them both somewhere around their shoulders, Kate tries to lift up her feet slipping on the tile - from the wet floor and not at all because he's making her weak at the knees - and her fingers smooth out over the slippery wet skin of his bicep.

He's slow and thorough and his nose sweeps her cheekbone as their mouths align and he nudges her lips apart. The tangle of hot breath making her shudder and give up noises from the back of her throat she hadn't even realized were trapped there.

His other hand smooths down her back, curls around her hip and trips lightly over her stomach. Each fingertip a spark, igniting white hot flame over her skin and his thumb - his damn thick and seductive thumbs - traces her navel, dips inside and slides out again so that her hips jerk forward and the entire naked expanse of their thighs, stomachs and chest slide together wetly.

Her muscles clench, low and hungry and his hand drifts lazily to her back again, skimming out over the upper curve of her ass, drumming across the skin as if he has all the time in the world and she's not about to melt from the inside out.

He pulls back, his lips dropping straight to her neck and she gasps, "Wow," Her head dropping back as a ripples of heat rolls through her stomach. His head lifts, soft wet hair tickling over her neck as he moves and his mouth stretched into an O of surprise at her words, his blue eyes dance with mischief and delight, "Shut up." She warns, before he can even speak, but she's smiling back and coiling her leg around his his ankle, her toes brushing his calf.

"Close your eyes." There is no plea, no begging for her agreement, just a command and her breath comes faster even as she complies. He has a power over her she hadn't expected and the way his voice just plummets low and gravelly, hits her hard leaving no option but to do as he says.

His voice rasps over her like stubble against the most sensitive parts of her skin and Kate shudders, her fingertips digging into his arms as she fights to hold on, her head dropping back to rest against the wall and her heart attacking her ribs in a bid to escape her chest.

He keeps one hand pressed low against her stomach, the hot heavy weight making the muscles beneath him dance for attention and everything below this point of contact quivers.

He leaves her bereft and she hates the whiny, almost whimper that leaves her lips when she feels him move back, only to have the surge of hot water race across her chest replacing him and making her gasp - it pounds across her skin hot and forceful - the spray angled just so it catches her nipples.

She's already sensitive, still too aware of the pressure building in the buds - the lingering feel of his mouth taking her in, sucking and all consuming - and the surrounding tissues shiver which each blast of water that tingles over them.

Her knees quake and her eyes desperately want to open, to see him, to make him touch her. "Castle I-"

"Keep them closed, Kate." His mouth brushes past her ear and she turns into him, the pink cavern of her mouth opening and desperately seeking his, only for her lips to close on an empty bite of nothing. And still his hand on her stomach holds her captive against the tile.

The smell of soap surges up between them, citrus and slightly smoky, male and completely him - as if she's burrowed her nose into his neck and inhaled deeply - and her heart pounds heavily with knowledge, a sudden surge of hot wet desire making her roll her hips and press herself against his thigh where it's still tangled between her legs.

He has her trapped against the tiled wall of his shower, his body surrounding hers and the rough scrape of his teeth catch her shoulder and she sinks into him. It feels good and she lets her body slide along the length of his muscle, groaning out at the relief of sensation right where she needs it.

Something soft and rough at the same time traces over her shoulder and she jerks to a stop, freezing under the movement, her entire body strains to feel more, to know more of what he has planned for her. To open her eyes.

His mouth finds her ear again, his fingers rough against her skin as she realizes he's moving something over her, tracing her skin with bubbles and the roughness of cloth that makes her gasp when it brushes her nipple. "So." He breaths and she startles at the word, at the way his hand moves and his fingers tweak her nipple and it rises to attention, "Sexy."

He is, he can say she is as much as he wants, but god just his voice, the mellow tones of seduction rolling through every word, have her on the edge faster than anything else ever has before.

His fingers trail her stomach and she gasps, sucks in a breath and a smattering of water. His fingers brush her lips and she opens her mouth again, desperate to plead for his kiss, "So." He;'s going to kill her because instead of his lips on hers she feels his fingers, hard and thick and tasting like bubbles, "Beautiful."

The rough press of whatever he holds in his hands skirts her hip bone, traces her thigh and slips between them so that his name becomes a long drawn out cry.

"Mmm, I love your voice." He whispers, still talking as his fingers slip between her legs and he rolls the pads across her until she's shuddering and the rough scrape of material against her soft weeping flesh nearly takes her legs out from under her, but he's already there, catching her and holding her up for his exploration.

Unrelenting, he works her body, up and up and higher, with the strong smell and now bitter- sweet bite of soap over her lips - above and below - over loading her senses. His fingers moving, moving, never stopping and she throws her head back against the tile expecting pain.

She lands instead in the palm of his other hand and unbidden her eyes flash open, meeting his gaze directly as his fingers withdraw from her, holding her pelvis and leaving a sticky trail as her body continues quake under the onslaught.

He holds her eyes, moves slowly and deliberately, bringing their bodies into tight and delicious alignment.

He spreads her legs wider, has to bend and flex his knees because even on her tip toes she's shorter and standing up in the shower and oh, oh, he's right there, nudging slowly and parting her, then it's one great upward surge that has her toes curling, her stomach clenching and her fingernails leaving vivid red trails over his skin.

The weight of him, the pressure as he pushes inside, solid and thick, sliding deep and deeper still until her head is spinning and her lungs are burning for breath and his hands are at her hips tight and constricting and perfect, perfect.

Their hips kiss and her leg lifts giving him that last extra inch that nearly knocks her on her backside, a ripple of gold lightning dancing out from where he touches her inside.

She squeezes around him, gets the full feel of him and his pelvis snaps back and forth in response.

"I can't-" He warns, darkly

"So don't." She cries out.

No holding back, no dragging it out, her arms slide under his, up his back so that her fingertips curve over his shoulders and she's holding him to her in a vice like grip.

She slides back and forth on the length of him, tiny millimeters of sensation because she can't keep still and he's there like an iron rod of desperation between her legs and every cell in her body is pounding with a rhythm that sounds suspiciously like his damn name.

"Castle." She threatens, groans, moans, grumbles, lovingly strokes the word past her tongue again and again and again with each little twitch of movement. "Castle" like a prayer or a curse or a whispered kiss. "Castle" until his eyes open, dark and deadly and so full of love that she moans it again, "Castle."

With him inside and the water pounding over his back it takes a seconds confirmation and then it's hard and fast and unrelenting.

The bruising force of her fingers is matched by the pounding beat he sets, his hips snapping into hers with thrust after thrust so that she cries out loud - shocked at first and then delighted, delirious even.

Ecstatic.

It hurts where her shoulders graze against the tile, but it hurts more when he withdraws and leaves her feeling empty, only for him take the pain away and to surge back inside, over and over again.

She thought she was in love with the feel of his head between her legs, or his fingers stretching her apart. She thought there was nothing better than the long slow drawn out exploration in his bed, the way he feels in her hands, but this, this is...

"More." He demands, and yes yes it is more, her leg is tight in his fingers, up around his waist the muscles in her thigh protesting as he pushes in and stretches her apart, and this time when he slams into her she rises up onto her toes, clenches tight and wrings an agonized growl from his lips.

"God, Kate." His head drops to her neck and he does it again, his teeth closing over her shoulder and she squeezes, relentless, again and again and again and again, with each surge she does it again, bringing herself to breaking point with the contraction of her own muscles.

It sizzles between them.

Short, sharp thrusts and deep yielding pressure, her stomach clenches and his muscles dance, coming alive under her hands, the rigidity of his spine so sudden and telling that yes, yes she wants to feel him and she clenches again, bringing herself closer, closer still as he pulls out and pushes back in, sliding, scraping over every nerve cell and tingly - god she feels alive and electrified and melting and so so, _damn_, so close.

It sizzles between them, hot and fast and like lightning it strikes hard, straight between their bodies so that he bursts like white hot fire straight into the heart of her and she breaks, the tumbles of running water no where near loud enough to silence their cries.

The heat explodes, ricochets from the wall and tumbles from her as she's near to sobbing with every snap of his hips, it's surges out billows around them and everything in her squeezes him tight, her arms around his neck, lifting his head, pulling him up to meet her kiss.

But he can't, he's breathing too hard, still pumping into her as his own release shudders through him, prolonging hers and drowning in every whimper of enjoyment that is wrung from them both.

Their lips brush, and he arches into her again, twice, three more times and her legs quiver, her back aches and her fingers are digging into him so hard that she knows she's left bruises up and down his back.

His last hoarse grunting breath catches her lips and she nips at him, her body an eclectic stutter of feelings, so vast in color and contrast that she can't even begin to name them.

He slides out, steps back when she shivers, and pulls her under the spray with him, drenching them both in deliciously hot water.

His hand thuds onto the tile behind her head and she rests her forehead against his wrist watching him. He moves slowly, coming for her with such focus that she shudders, tries to blink and can't bring herself to break eye contact.

Under the forceful fall of the shower spray he falls into her, surrounds her, but doesn't steal a kiss - this one she gives up with complete willingness, her hands roaming over him. The pounding water matching the beat of her heart.


End file.
